


Ireland's Not Real

by Denois



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bullying, Coming Out, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Name Calling, Rest of the SMH as minor or background, Stereotypes, intent vs impact, kids are cruel, physical bullying, suspicions of homophobia, unintentional gaslighting quickly resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denois/pseuds/Denois
Summary: Dex is Acadian. But for some reason, everyone assumes he's Irish. After enduring bullying about it as a child, he copes by asserting that Ireland just isn't real.This is a concerning statement for Nursey, an Irish Studies Major.
Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter
Comments: 44
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [Draskireis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/draskireis) for the beta read.
> 
> [Sequoiacy](https://sequoiacy.tumblr.com/) made some wonderful art to go along with my fic (Link Go Here when I get it!) So make sure to give that a looksy.

Will was seven when his family moved to the small town just outside of Portland. Changing schools in the middle of the school year made it tough to make friends. Moving the week of St. Patrick’s Day, and all the kids at his new school deciding he must be Irish, made it even tougher. 

“You’re not wearing green, Billy.”

“Ye-ye-yeah. Gotta pay the price. Not wearing green.”

Billy skidded to a stop as he saw another group of kids blocking off his escape. He looked around wildly as they backed him against the fence. Where were the teachers? The monitors? Anyone?

“I’m not Irish. You only gots to wear green if you’re Irish. My ma said-”

“Yeah, yer Irish. Look’t you. Like a lepr-kahn.”

They were pinching him. Again and again. A wall of kids blocking his vision. Skinny arms reaching between the bodies closest to him, faceless children, pinching and saying it over and over.

“You’re Irish. E’erbody’s Irish.”

“Whatcha got against Irish anyway?”

“Who cares if yer Irish? It’s Saint Patrick’s Day so you gotta wear green.”

“You can’t lie to us, Billy.”

“You can’t lie, Billy.”

“You’re Irish, Billy.”

“It’s what you get. Shoulda wore green.”

Somehow, over the din of screaming classmates, the school bell sounded, ending recess and the crowd around him dispersed. He got up and limped back to class. Somehow managing to slip into his seat just after the bell rang again.

“I don’t know how they did things at your old school, Billy. But we expect students to be in their seats before the tardy bell rings.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

By the time school let out, bruises were forming on his arms and torso. Luckily, it was still cold enough to justify wearing long sleeves, so they were mostly covered as he slowly walked home. 

“Will? How was school?”

“Fine.” He hovered near the door, clutching his bag. His ma wasn’t always home when he got home, but it was just his luck that she was today.

“Did you make any new friends?”

“Nah. I think they think I talk funny. They said I must be Irish.”

His ma rolled her eyes. “Plenty of Irish around here. Think they’d recognize Acadian.”

“I got some spelling to practice before dinner.”

His ma watched him with narrowed eyes. “You haven’t been fighting have you? You know how I feel about fighting.”

“No. Just got homework.”

“Ok, then.” 

He didn’t flee from her gaze, but only because he was worried it would make her more suspicious. The bruises took just over two weeks to heal.

* * *

The idea of Keith wanting to be his friend was too good to be true. Later, Will would be mad at himself for being so easily fooled. But Will was twelve and Will had a crush on the most popular boy in school, so Will did what any self respecting boy would do when his crush asked him to hang out after lunch. Will followed Keith directly into the trap. 

“Oh, good. You got Will.”

“Micks always love a fight.”

“This should be good.”

Will looked around at the crowd of boys, tucked into a corner of the school yard where they weren’t in view of the supervising teachers. “Um, Keith, what’s going on?”

“Well, Will. We’ve started a fight club. And since it’s your first time at fight club. You get to fight first.” Keith’s grin no longer looked attractive. 

Will held up his hands and started trying to back away, but the other boys closed ranks around him. “No, thanks. I don’t fight. I won’t te-”

His word cut off as the air was forcefully expelled from his lungs as a fist collided with his stomach. 

They weren’t good fighters. None of them had any real training or anything and they were a pack of twelve year old boys. But they were an entire pack of twelve year old boys, and they all jumped in immediately, raining fists and feet down on him. 

Will tried to keep his arms over his head and face, and dropped down in a ball to try to protect his stomach. He was pretty sure he’d seen that in movies, but even if he hadn’t, after that first punch, he didn’t want to get hit in the stomach again. 

“Come on, Paddy.”

“Fight back, ya Mick.”

“Bog trotters are supposed to know about fighting.”

“Looks like this one just knows about crying.”

“I’m not Irish. Even if I was, why?” No one heard his mumbled question.

Eventually, the blows slowed and stopped. Footsteps crunched against the gravel as the boys left. He felt someone over him and hot breath against his ear, so he stayed curled up.

“Remember, the first rule of Fight Club. You don’t talk about Fight Club.”

Then more crunching footsteps and he was alone to slowly uncurl and poke at his limbs to see if there would be anything worse than a bruise. 

At least they’d sent Keith to ask him just because Keith was the most popular boy. They didn’t know about his (no longer existent) crush. If they’d known, they would have said something. He was sure of it. But he’d been careful. He hadn’t told anyone. Hadn’t said it outloud. Hadn’t even written their initials in a heart on his notebooks or anything.

He just had to avoid those boys until high school. No problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Will would have thought that people in Maine would be aware of French Acadians. He was from Maine, born in Maine, could not more clearly be French Acadian from Maine. Apparently, around Portland, everyone was either Irish or plain old American.

“Hey, Ireland. You better not start any fights on my watch. This isn’t the NHL.” The linesman made it a point to skate past him as they got ready for the puck drop. 

Will sighed and shook his head. His name was clear on his sweater. There was no reason to single him out. 

But it was just another day.

“Hey Irish.”

“Hey Paddy.”

“Hey Ginger.”

At least the last one was accurate. 

The teacher handed back graded homework and Will sighed when he looked at the note on the top instructing him to see her after class.

He took his time packing his bag while the classroom emptied, then approached her desk.

“Will, what is the meaning of this?” Ms. Ferrell’s tone was clipped, as though she was trying to decide if she was angry, exasperated, or disappointed.

Will looked down at the map that she was indicating. “I don’t know what you mean, ma’am. I followed the instructions and labelled everything where I thought it was located.”

“You put ‘Ireland’ on the Aegean Sea.”

“Oh, was that not Ireland?” He bent down to look closer at the map, furrowing his brow as though confused.

“No. Ireland is a country, made of land and definitely not connected to the Mediteranean. Of which, I’m sure you are aware.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Ferrell. I’ve just never heard of this ‘Ireland’ before. I was doing my best. I’ll be sure to try harder next time.”

Ms. Ferrell pursed her lips and gave him a _look_. Will’s ma was a former goalie, so he was pretty immune to regular looks, this one didn’t even phase him, but he tried to look innocent and contrite anyway.

“That’s what you said after you gave a presentation on Ira Land instead of Ireland.”

Will opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.

“And what you said after writing a paper about Oreland.” She heaved a sigh. “I know you’re doing this on purpose, Will. What I don’t understand is why you’re acting out this way. Plenty of people in Maine are Irish. Maybe even most of them. If the other students are giving you a hard time about it, tell me and I can help.”

Will paused for a moment. “Have you considered that perhaps this ‘Ireland’ just doesn’t actually exist?”

“Will, I’m being serious here! If Ireland doesn’t exist, then where did your family come from?”

“France.” He responded quickly and matter-of-factly. “The Poitou region. By way of Acadia.” 

“There isn’t a Poitou region of France.”

“Not since the revolution, no. I know, it would be ironic if we’d come from the Maine region, right?” He smiled without mirth. “Maine to Maine, and still not able to keep the British from trying to take over.”

Ms. Ferrell was giving him an odd look. He was probably pressing it too far, but it had been building up for a while.

“The Great Expulsion. The Great Upheaval. Queen Elizabeth II, Queen of Canada, finally admitted what the British did to Acadians. The US never did, but I guess the US just doesn’t recognize complicity in actions it took, well, ever. Did you know, my family still has stories about how our family was split up during the deportations? Over 250 years, but I know the stories of the children that were meant to be relocated to New England with their parents and siblings, but were never seen again. My grandmother thinks they might have ended up in Louisiana. Cajuns. It’s a nice thought.”

He took a deep breath. He wasn’t missing another class because this had been his last class of the day, and luckily he didn’t have practice, but he did have work and he was already going to be running late. He took another breath and gave her a more genuine smile.

“So, no. I haven’t heard of this ‘Ireland’. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t heard of Great Britain or the United Kingdom, either.”

“Will. I can see how that would be upsetting. But I can’t just let these things slide without taking off points, either.”

“I completely understand. Am I free to go now? I’ve got to be at my uncle’s shop for work, or let him know that I’ll be late.”

“Go on.”


	3. Chapter 3

The first “unofficial” kegster at Samwell was a shock. Not because he’d never had alcohol before - he was a good hockey player from a small town where there wasn’t much to do other than work or have parties and someone always managed to bring beer to those. No, the shock was due to how little say he seemed to have in the matter. The day before, the Frogs had been sat down and given a speech about the absolute requirement of consent - a speech Dex appreciated. The night of the kegster, as soon as he entered the Haus, Shitty pressed a cup full of a neon green liquid into his hand.

“Here brah. Hope it holds up to what you’re used to. Back porch for refills.”

Shitty disappeared before Dex could hand back the cup and explain that he preferred not to drink. It was just as well; he wasn’t really ready to tell people why he’d stopped drinking by the time he was sixteen. It wasn’t exactly the kind of story that made a guy popular, not even in his hometown where at least everyone had known his uncle and were already familiar with the basics of the story. At least in high school, people had appreciated having a self-assigned designated driver. 

He didn’t think that was going to save his reputation when the party was a block away from campus.

Then Ransom hooked an arm around his neck and dragged him towards the back of the Haus. 

“Just the Frog I was looking for! Holtzy and I are going to induct you and Nursey into the fine art of pong so that one day, you can carry on our legacy.”

“I don’t really-”

Holster appeared on his other side and waved a hand to brush off his denial. “Don’t worry about it, bro. You’re going to be a natural. It’s in your blood.”

Dex conceded with a sigh, resolving to sneak away the first chance he got. And come up with a plan to avoid drinking at kegsters in the future.

Luckily, he found out the next day that after he’d left, Nursey managed to end up on the roof of the Haus. More luckily, Nursey managed not to get hurt while pulling the stunt. But best of all, it gave Dex an opportunity to claim he’d stay sober to be on Nursey Patrol and watch his liney’s back.

* * *

Dex stood outside the door for several minutes working up the nerve to knock. Samwell wasn’t his old high school team. The locker room talk was still pretty raunchy, but there was fewer underlying homophobic threads. Bitty was out to the team and no one had a problem with it or gave him a hard time. 

Most importantly, Chowder seemed like he would understand why Dex was keeping things quiet in case he had a chance at the NHL. 

He knocked on the door.

“Dex!” Chowder’s grin was infectious. It was nearly impossible to not be happy if Chowder was happy.

Dex returned the smile. “Mind if I come in? Wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh yeah! Sure thing.”

Once they were settled in Chowder’s room, Dex took a deep breath and decided to just get it over with. “I’m gay.”

“Okay.”

Dex nodded. He’d expected a bit more excitement from Chowder, but when he glanced over, he saw Chowder watching him. It made sense. Chowder was from San Francisco, he’d probably dealt with people coming out before. He was probably used to figuring out what kind of reaction they needed.

“You’re my best friend, so I wanted to tell you. Especially since the team seems to be better than my high school was. But…” He paused for a breath. “I don’t think I’m ready to tell the whole team yet.”

“Ok. Swawesome. I understand. I won’t tell anyone.” 

Chowder moved closer and made motions like he wanted to give Dex a hug, so Dex opened his arms so that Chowder could dive in.

“I don’t think it would be a problem here, being out. Bitty’s out. And like, the whole school is hella good about lgbt+ stuff. There’s like a saying ‘1 in 4, maybe more’ about how many people at Samwell identify as lgbt+ in one or more ways.” 

“Really?”

“Ch’yeah!”

Dex smiled back at Chowder. The phrase didn’t really make sense. How would they have even figured that? What methods did they use? How did they ensure a random sample? There was a way to get to the bottom of this, he was sure of it.

“Do you want to go hang out at the Haus? I’d like to ask Ransom some questions about that figure.”

“Ransom?”

“Ayuh. He told me that he’s friends with almost the entire student body on social media, and he tracks everything in excel. I bet he could give us a better percentage than ‘1 in 4, maybe more.’”

“Oh! Good idea.”

While they walked over, the stat kept rolling around Dex’s head. It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t been out in high school, but he’d still managed to find small lgbt+ groups and gatherings that were circumspect. Groups of closeted kids supporting each other (and dating each other). At Samwell, which was supposed to have this large, inclusive, population of lgbt+ students, he hadn’t even seen anyone promoting openly lgbt+ groups. 

By the time they reached the Haus, he’d convinced himself that whoever told Chowder the one in four statistic must have been mistaken. LGBT+ people had been finding each other for centuries when it wasn’t safe to even hint at their identities. If Samwell was that open and inclusive, they would have ways for people to find each other. 

He saw Ransom sitting with Holster and Bitty in the kitchen as soon as they entered the Haus, so he decided not to waste any time. 

“So, that one in four thing about Samwell… it’s not like...actually true, is it?” He realized that he’d been trying to talk himself out of it because he didn’t want to hope. He still wasn’t ready to come out to the rest of the team, and as he asked the question, he realized how hopeful he sounded. They had to realize.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed Nursey in the den.

“WTF, Poindexter.” 

Nursey’s voice behind him made Dex close his eyes and turn slowly. Chowder made a small noise beside him, but he shook his head slightly. It was fine. They were Frogs together, after all. Eventually he would have told Nursey anyway. He just hadn’t wanted it to go down like this. Because, seriously?

“Seriously? You’re gonna chirp me about this?”

By this point, the Frogs were tucked into the den for a private conversation.

“Ch’yeah, I am. I’m gonna do more than that. Just because you're a cis, straight, white dude doesn't mean that everyone is and when there's an accepting environment, marginalized people like to join it. Try not to fucking ruin it for us."

Dex couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment. “That’s a giant load of heteronormative bullcrap for someone who talks a big game on inclusivity.”

Apparently, he was still great at pushing all of Nursey’s buttons, because Nursey raised his voice in response. “You want to talk about heternormative bullcrap?!” Nursey narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing in a quieter tone. “No. You don’t get to talk about heteronormative bullcrap when you perform straight masculinity like it's your job."

Some small voice in the back of Dex’s mind noted that Nursey was great at pushing his buttons as well. "It literally is my job. Good job noticing that my school clothes are also my work clothes. Good job noticing that I'm here because I'm hoping to get into the NHL which is homophobic as fuck and even if Samwell is accepting, the NHL won't be. And thanks for showing me that even though you all talk a big game, your acceptance of people coming out depends on meeting your criteria for being gay enough."

Nursey and Dex stared at each other for a long moment. Dex knew that Nursey felt like he was in the right, but he just wasn’t listening. He’d been making assumptions about Dex from the start and Dex was tired of it. So what if he didn’t fit Nursey’s idea of what a gay man should look like, that didn’t change who he was.

Before either of them could say something, Chowder broke in, "My, what big ears you have."

He knew what Chowder was doing. He knew how their disagreements had made Chowder feel caught in the middle. Any other time, he’d have thanked Chowder for the distraction. But he really wanted Nursey to understand where he was coming from, even if he didn’t know why he wanted that. 

Nursey broke first. “Yo chill, Chowder. That's how he was born." He grinned as he finished the comment.

Dex sighed. It wasn’t worth upsetting Chowder. One of his friends accepted him. He’d take what he could get."... Whatever. Yeah. This is how I was born. Get over it." 

He turned on his heel and walked back out of the Haus.

* * *

Chowder caught up to him as he crossed the quad. “Sorry about chirping your ears.”

With a sigh, he forced the tension out of his shoulders. He didn’t want Chowder to think that he’d done anything wrong. “It’s ok. I know you were just.” He trailed off and made a gesture with his hands as he tried to find the right words before giving up and using the not-quite-right ones instead. “-trying to stop the argument.”

Chowder nodded quietly and they walked in silence for a few moments.

“It’s just. Everyone on this team! Especially Nurse, but everyone yells at me for chirping the same way any player on any other team on the continent would do.” He took a deep breath and licked his lips. Words didn’t always come easy to him, but he felt like he needed to get this out. To be understood by _one_ person. “And ok, sure. I get it. If we want to have an inclusive environment, if we want to really show hockey is for everyone instead of just parroting it, we gotta make it actually feel open. And I’m glad they came from some place where they can believe that’s possible. But they still-” 

He ran out of words and scrubbed at his face. If it was anyone else, he’d have expected a chirp about it, the irony lost. 

But it was Chowder, his best friend, so he got vaguely comforting and understanding noises. 

“They still think that gay men can only look one way. And like, I love twinks, not my type, but whatever, they’re great. But not everyone has to be femmey or flamboyant to be ok with who they are.”

“Of course not. Bears are hella valid.”

“It's like, everyone on this team thinks they know me, but they don't even listen to what I'm saying before they've decided what I mean.”

At that, Dex felt strong, thin arms wrap around him like pythons, holding tight and solid. He stopped and turned so that he could return the hug, letting the tension release even more. “Except you, but it’s not fair for me to unload on you all the time.”

“I’m strong. I can take it.”

“Wicked strong. Strongest on the team, probably. But also, if you need to unload to me, I can be strong for you, too.” Dex grinned at Chowder and then swung him up across his shoulders in a fireman carry. 

Chowder’s laughter rang across the quad the whole way back to the dorms.


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow, over the next two months, Nursey became one of Dex’s best friends. First, they stopped arguing quite as much, they actually started listening to each other. That definitely helped. Second, Dex started to figure out how Nursey thought, which meant that he could anticipate what he was going to do on the ice and knew where to expect him, so they were doing better at hockey. It turned out that Dex didn’t mind so much when Nursey went off playbook, just as long as Dex still knew where to expect him. Less irritation on the ice led to less irritation off the ice.

Which led to the Frogs sitting together at team breakfast a few days before Dex’s birthday. It figured that he’d be the youngest on the team, but he expected it after skipping a grade in elementary school. He’d been the youngest on a lot of teams.

“Okay, Poindexter.” Nursey fixed him with a stare and then punctuated it by pointing at him with his fork. “Your bday is coming up. You’re gonna be 18. I’ve noticed that you haven’t had much luck wheeling the ladies at kegsters-”

“Because I haven’t been trying to.” Dex’s comment was immediately ignored.

“But I’ve got a friend from Andover who would be perfect. She’s into the whole...rugged, outdoorsey, sex appeal thing you have going on.”

Dex sighed. Getting along with Nursey had also led to the smallest of crushes on him. Fanned somewhat larger by the fact that Nursey had come out as bi which meant that, theoretically, Dex had a chance. Except, not realistically. Besides the fact that dating his line partner was just about the stupidest move he could think of, Nursey didn’t think of him like that. So the crush was just one more in a long list of bad decisions on the part of his heart; one more that he was going to ignore.

Which was to say, he had to tell his brain to stop focusing on Nursey saying that he had sex appeal and pay attention to the fact that Nursey was only saying that in an attempt to set him up with someone else. A woman, to be precise.

“Seriously, not interested.”

Nursey took a bite of eggs and didn’t seem to be listening to Dex at all as he chewed and swallowed before continuing. “She does experimental theater and makes her own clothes. Sick, riiiight?” He stretched out the last word and waggled his eyebrows at Dex. 

Dex grit his teeth and tried to stop himself from saying something that would start a fight. He liked being friends with Nursey. Arguing with him over the best pizza toppings was one thing, friends did shit like that. But it was pretty irritating to have his sexuality completely dismissed by one of his best friends.

Luckily, he was saved from having to reply right away by Chowder. “Wow!” It sounded overemphasized to Dex.

“That entire sentence was frustrating.” 

“Chill. Just be straight with me, okay? What kind of girl do you want to be set up with? Even if I can’t find someone by your birthday, I can help you out for Winter Screw.” Nursey looked sincere, even if he was dragging bits of bacon through maple syrup while he talked. 

Shaking his head, Dex put his fork down on the tray. “I can’t be _straight_ with you. And I don’t want you to set me up with a girl.” 

He pushed himself to his feet and took his tray over to dump his trash and put the dishes in the tray return. He had class which meant he didn’t have time to figure out why Nursey would keep trying to set him up with a woman even though he’d explained back in August that he’d been trying to come out as gay.

* * *

Nursey stayed quiet after Dex left the d-hall. It was one thing to know that he and Dex were still on shakey ground. But he’d really thought that they’d made progress. Dex had been quiet but accepting when Nursey’d come out as bi. Or at least not biphobic. And he’d glared at people and been grumpy when comments were made about Nursey “not liking labels”, but he also had followed Nursey’s lead and not fought his battles for him. 

So, yeah. He’d thought that he and Dex were friends. They’d even been planning a group Halloween costume with Chowder. So it hurt to hear that Dex didn’t trust Nursey to set him up with someone. That he didn’t want to tell Nursey the truth, or felt like he couldn’t. Nursey’s brain helpfully supplied a lot of really shitty reasons why Dex wouldn’t want to tell Nursey the truth about his date preferences or have Nursey set him up.

Chowder stayed quiet, too. Right up until they left the dining hall together.

“That was hella not swawesome. I know you don’t always get along with Dex, but seriously. Not swawesome.”

“Ch’yeah. Thought Poindexter was getting more chill. Guess I was wrong.”

Chowder stopped and stared at him, mouth open. “I’m talking about you. Not everyone is bi.”

“Ch’yeah. I know.” He’d been reminding himself that more and more often, if he was honest. He didn’t want to be honest after the way Dex had acted that morning. But when Dex wasn’t being a hyperprivileged jerk, he was actually. Well. Really nice, in his way. And hot, objectively speaking. It’s just, it hurt that he’d rebuffed his overtures of friendliness.

“If you know, why would you try to set Dex up with a woman?”

Okay, Chowder wasn’t making sense. Nursey blinked at him.

“C, not everyone is bi. I’m not going to try to set up my straight friends with dudes.”

“Great! Dex is hella gay, though.”

Nursey snorted. “Dex is straight.”

“He’s mentioned being gay in your presence at least three times that I know of.” Chowder tilted his head and his eyebrows stopped being quite as intense. “Did you really not realize that?”

“No, I… shit. So he thinks that I know that he’s gay and still tried to set him up with a woman?”

“Ch’yeah. Not a swawesome situation.” 

“No. It’s not.”

* * *

Two days after Nursey tried to set him up with an old Andover friend, a female Andover friend, and the day before his eighteenth birthday, Dex was studying at Founders when he was kidnapped. He fought. He wasn’t a fighter, but he fought. 

He’d never expected to get kidnapped, which he realized was an absurd thought. Did anyone expect to get kidnapped? But he couldn’t think of any reasons someone would kidnap him that didn’t end badly for him. It wasn’t like his family had money to pay a ransom for his safe return.

He kicked and he screamed and he fought. Samwell had security guards, surely someone would hear and help him.

“Do you have a shift at the ice rink? You look familiar. Yeah, I’m on the hockey team-”

“Justin, let’s go!”

In between his yells, he heard his kidnappers. Apparently, one of them was flirting with the security guard. So much for someone helping him. His brain did click the voices into place, especially when Holster loudly yelled Ransom’s name. Dex didn’t stop fighting just because he knew it was his teammates. He still didn’t know what they were doing with him and they knew enough to know that his family didn’t have any money. 

He didn’t stop fighting until after they’d managed to strip him to his boxer briefs and tape his hands together before shoving him out onto the ice at Faber. He stopped fighting it then because he could see that the whole team was there to subdue him if necessary. He couldn’t win against Holster and Ransom, much less the whole team. The whole team except Jack, Nursey, and Chowder, who were similarly in boxer briefs and had their hands tied. 

Shitty walked by and handed each of them a can of beer, then circled back and handed Dex a second. Dex wasn’t sure why he got singled out, unless it was some kind of punishment for fighting the kidnapping. Or he wasn’t sure until he heard Shitty mutter something about “genetic tolerance” under his breath. Unfortunately, Dex didn’t seem to have much say in whether or not he drank the beers. 

At least he was still on campus. At least he wasn’t going to be driving. 

He managed to stop being grateful for that small fact around the time his mouth opened without his input and he heard himself gush to Jack about how he should have gone first in the draft and that his ass was shockingly large. He probably should have just been happy that he managed to shut his mouth rather than continuing to describe his feelings about Jack’s ass.


	5. Chapter 5

Developing a crush on Nursey wasn’t a bad idea. It was a horrible idea. Especially because Dex was pretty sure that Nursey was aware of his crush and was using every available opportunity to chirp him about it. It wasn’t like he’d had a say in the matter. 

At least Nursey had stopped trying to set him up with women. Now, he just chirped Dex by acting like he was flirting. Taunting Dex into daring to believe that he might actually stand a chance. Of course, he didn’t; not with Nursey. 

It was fine. He’d had unrequitable crushes before. He’d get over it. Even if Nursey was exactly what he’d want in a guy, other than the chirping him about his crush thing.

He realized that he had a legit, fully blown, real deal crush -not just a slight interest- when Nursey got sick for the first time that semester. It was probably also when Nursey’d realized Dex had a crush. He hadn’t been subtle, worrying and dragging Bitty over to Nursey’s dorm to check on him. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise, less than two weeks later, when the chirping started in earnest. There were some before that, a few here and there, but Nursey’d been circumspect about only chirping when it was just the Frogs.

Or he had been, until Holster started singing to Ransom during a study break at Founders. 

“Would you ever sing to me?” Nursey was smirking. He was smirking in that way he did when some wild idea of his actually panned out, or when his fanclub was around to tell him that he was hot. Nursey didn’t need the fanclub to tell him that because he knew he was hot and he knew that Dex knew it.

“No.”

“You’d totally sing to me.” 

It would be a lot less aggravating if it wasn’t accurate. If they weren’t in public. If it wasn’t just a chirp. If it wasn’t all a set up to laugh at Dex’s expense. He would sing for Nursey, if he asked. 

He almost didn’t hear the woman asking Holster to be quiet so she could study, or Holster’s response of singing even louder. He was slammed back into reality when the woman left in a huff.

“The hockey team. I knew it.”

“Sing to her, Dex.”

Just like that, he was reminded that it was all a joke to Nursey. 

He thought Nursey might have grown tired of chirping him about it over the break. Nursey was sending nearly constant texts, mostly direct but some in the Frog Group Chat or the SMH Group Chat. To be fair, they weren’t all veiled chirps about Dex’s crush; some were complaining about how long it took Dex to respond when he was at work or sleeping. The most difficult ones were the soft lit sleepy selfies that Nursey usually ended up sending around the time Dex was getting up for work. They were probably just another way that Nursey was chirping him, but Dex wanted to believe the sleepy messages and smiles were legit, that Nursey wanted to send Dex off to work with a personal message. It didn’t hurt anything except his own impending broken heart to do so, so he did.

Then they got back to campus so that the season could resume.

“You miss me, Poindexter?” Nurse was smirking with his usual chill, chirping smile. 

Of course Nursey couldn’t drop it. Nursey had to make sure the whole team knew that Dex couldn’t resist texting him every day of break.

“No.” It was almost the truth. They’d texted so much, he’d gotten so many selfies from Nursey, that other than the fact he missed the warmth of Nursey’s arm pressed against his, it was almost, _almost_ , like they hadn’t been apart.

“You’re always free to skype me.”

Dex turned away from the smirk and headed for the bus. They’d end up sitting next to each other, they always did, but maybe he could avoid reopening the discussion about why Dex couldn’t skype Nursey while he was at work. Having the discussion in person would just make it even more obvious that it was all a joke to Nursey. 

Dex had to find a way to get over this crush.


	6. Chapter 6

Things were going better with Nursey, which wasn’t good news for his efforts at getting over his crush. Nursey still chirped him about said crush, but they were friendly chirps. All of Nursey’s chirps had lost the mocking edge. 

They were even understanding each other better, and where their initial disagreements had come from. They were discussing op-eds and current events each morning at breakfast, discussing racism and classism and how they intersected. And how rich cishet white men, like those who owned the newspapers, were inclined to cause or encourage disadvantaged people to see other disadvantaged groups as the enemy to avoid everyone working together to remove said rich cishet white men from power. 

Plus, they were working really well together on the ice, shouldering their weight as the team moved through the ECAC playoffs.

Everything was going really great. They won the quarterfinals, leaving two games between them and a lock for Regionals and a good chance of getting an At Large spot either way. Dex’s classes were tough, but he was managing. He had two really great best friends and the guys on the team were pretty good at respecting people’s differences, for the most part. 

The Frogs were all piled around the Haus table, trying to catch up on homework after the weekend roadie for quarter finals when Dex froze. He hadn’t even realized that he’d let his guard down until he heard Holster’s booming voice proceed him into the kitchen.

“Hey Bits, can you make, like, a leprechaun shaped pie?”

“So we can, like, eat it?” Ransom’s voice joined Holster’s as they stepped into the room.

He couldn’t hear Bitty’s reply, even though he was only feet away. There was no reason to panic. It was the day before Saint Patrick’s Day. He wasn’t going to get pinched or attacked for not wearing the right color. They were just frat boys wanting to have fun. It was fine. He could just pack up his stuff and finish in his room. He’d probably focus better there anyway.

“Are you Irish?” Nursey could have been talking to anyone. Well, probably not Chowder or Ransom. Holster and Bitty were a bit of a long shot too.

Dex’s heart sank as he looked up at Nursey with narrowed eyes to confirm that Nursey was looking at him with an eyebrow raised. His mind flashed through possibilities. Kids cornering him to pinch him until he bruised. His crush luring him to a fight club he wanted no part in. Slurs, taunts, little things that just added up. 

He shook his head hard. Nursey wouldn’t do those things. Not after the things they’d talked about. “No.”

His mind helpfully reminded him about how Nursey kept chirping him for his crush and the image of those “kiss me, I’m Irish” shirts punctuated the thought. 

He’d grabbed his books and bag and was out the door before he processed making the decision to leave.

* * *

Nursey knew it was almost Saint Patrick’s Day. It was his favorite holiday, it would be absurd for him to not have noticed that the shamrock he’d put on the day was right after when he’d written in the dates of the quarterfinals. And it was his first St Paddy’s Day away from home, so he’d been hoping that they would really do it right, with the proximity to Boston and all. He just hadn’t really mentioned any of this to the team. People were weird about who they thought was allowed to enjoy which holidays. 

But then Holster and Ransom came in to ask about a leprechaun shaped pie, of all things, the day before the Best Holiday, and Nursey figured that it meant the team was probably chill with it.

He looked at Dex. He did that a lot, if he was honest, but it was a nice view. And even if Dex never responded positively to his flirts, he still blushed. He’d still shown up at Nursey’s dorm when Nursey’d gotten sick. He still cared. Once Nursey’d known what to look for, he was shocked at himself for having missed how much Dex cared. Not just about him, about the whole team. It was probably just wishful thinking to think that Dex would like him back, but a little sport flirting never hurt. 

And if Dex might be wearing one of those “Kiss me, I’m Irish” shirts the next day, well, it would present an opportunity, if Nursey was brave enough to take it.

“Are you Irish?”

He hadn’t actually meant to ask, but once it was out of his mouth, he schooled his expression to be chill and raised an eyebrow. Everyone in the room was watching and they probably all realized exactly why Nursey had asked the question, but he could still play it off as a chirp if Dex wasn’t into kissing him. 

Dex narrowed his eyes in suspicion, then roughly shook his head before uttering a clipped “No.”

It was probably the last thing that Nursey expected, except that then Dex grabbed all his stuff and fled from the Haus without even putting it into his bag first. And ok, Nursey got it. It was a really blatant attempt to scope out the possible kissing situation the next day. But there wasn’t any reason to act that disgusted at the thought. Nursey had it on good authority that he was actually an above average kisser. 

So either Chowder was wrong about Dex being gay and he was actually homophobic like Nursey’d thought. 

Or Dex was just revolted by the idea of kissing Nursey in particular. 

Was it too early to start on the green beer?


	7. Chapter 7

Saint Patrick’s Day was on a Tuesday, which would have been a problem for anyone who hadn’t planned better than Nursey. But Nursey was king of planning, so on Tuesdays he only had morning practice and one class and then he was free to celebrate. He didn’t even have to worry about the next day because his Wednesday classes didn’t start until later and conditioning was in the afternoon. 

Nursey had been planning for this, his first St Paddy’s Day away from the hyper-privileged assholes that had plagued his private school existence, for far longer than he’d actually been at Samwell. There was nothing anyone could do to ruin that for him, not even Dex’s rejection was going to bring him down.

He was riding high at the end of practice, right through his shower and adding in the green rinse and spray (guaranteed to wash out in one shampoo, because he wasn’t planning to continue to make a statement), and to when he pulled on his “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” shirt.

“Bullshit, you’re Irish.”

Nursey froze at the words. 

“Shut it, Stenny. Whether or not Nursey’s Irish is none of your business.”

Nursey relaxed at Dex’s words and gave him a small smile. Maybe whatever had gotten into Dex the day before wasn’t related to Nursey at all. Their stalls were right next to each other, so it wasn’t difficult to lower his voice so that only Dex could hear. “Thanks, Poindexter.” 

Dex gave him an odd look from the corner of his eye and kept getting dressed.

So maybe things weren’t smoothed over. Whatever, it still wasn’t going to ruin Nursey’s holiday.

“Whatever, Nurse. Ireland isn’t real anyway.”

Everything went kind of fuzzy and staticy after that.

* * *

Nursey’s day improved after that. It had to, there was no way he was letting Dex get under his skin. Because that was definitely what Dex was doing. But it was fine. That’s how they flirted with each other, which meant they were fine. 

He’d just finished convincing himself of that when his Anthropology of Celts professor decided to murder him in cold blood. 

“Anam cara. Anam is soul, cara is friend. Literally, soul friend. A platonic soulmate, if you will. This was a person who you could reveal everything about yourself to. The hidden you, the parts you never showed anyone else. The Celts believed that having such a friend provided recognition and belonging unlike any other. It was the sort of friendship that cut across convention and category. It was an eternal bond. In contemporary Western societies, romantic and familial relationships tend to be given the most weight, in that order. The concept of the anam cara indicates a celtic understanding of relationships that places far greater import on friendship.”

Maybe that’s where he’d gone wrong all along. He’d been so focused on his crush on Dex, his romantic feelings, that he hadn’t stopped to recognize how close their friendship was. The explanation of anam cara could have been talking about them specifically. He never revealed what made him angry to anyone but Dex. They talked about everything, including their differences and how they affected their world views. And. A friendship that cut across convention and category. Recognition and belonging. 

He knew that he felt that. He hoped Dex did too.

“So, where do you want that kiss?” 

The words jolted him out of his introspection and he looked up to see one of his classmates standing beside his chair. A quick glance around showed a few other people hovering nearby, as well other classmates exchanging kisses between the other people wearing “Kiss me, I’m Irish!” shirts. 

The chill grin came to his face easily. “Well, since it’s the first date, how ‘bout we stick to the cheek.” 

The press of lips against his cheek was slow and firm. It was probably supposed to be seductive, but Nursey was honestly a bit overwhelmed by the fragrance they were wearing.

“Guess I’ll look forward to the second date, then.”

He tried to get out of the classroom. Another class was going to start, but he didn’t manage to make it out without collecting a few more kisses. Which was fine; that was the whole point of the shirt. 

Then he hit the pub and proceeded to lose count of the number of kisses he received, along with the amount of Baileys, Guinness, and assorted green drinks that he consumed. He wasn’t sure how long he was at the pub, or how he ended up back on the quad. Or most especially, how he ended up with his arm around Dex’s shoulder and Dex’s arm around his waist as they walked (or in some cases, stumbled) across the quad. 

He also wasn’t sure how Dex got him into his building, up to his floor, and into his dorm. But then he was there and Dex was wiping at his face with a washcloth. 

“Jeez, Nurse. How many people did you kiss at the bar?” It was low, under Dex’s breath. He probably wasn’t supposed to hear it. Or Dex had assumed he wouldn’t understand if he did.

“Some were from class.”

“Of course they were.” Dex held his face for another moment, looking at him intently.

“Chill, Dexy. Don’t be jealous. I was thinking of you the whole time. My cara anam. No. That’s not right. My anam cara. My Irish friend.”

Dex snorted and disappeared from view. Nursey wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but then Nursey’s foot started floating without his input, so that might have been a clue. He was going to try to work it out. 

“I’m not your Irish friend, Nurse. Ireland’s not real.”

All other thoughts fled his mind. That was just absurd. Whoever heard of Ireland not being real? “Ch’yeah. It is.”

“Nope.”

Nursey’s foot stopped floating, and he felt his rug under his toes so he made fists with his foot while the other foot started floating. “Ch’yeah. Otherwise we wouldn’t have William Butler Yeats. Or color photography. Or the tractor. Or Guiness. Or...or...or… milk chocolate.”

“They made it up for a movie, Nurse. Can you stand for me?”

Nursey stood up with Dex’s help, but frowned in concentration. Why would they make up Ireland for a movie? They definitely didn’t make up Robbie Burns, color photography, tractors, Guiness, and milk chocolate just for a movie. The room got dark for a moment, then the air was a bit colder. Then a lot colder on his legs too. 

“Ok. Sit back on the bed.”

He plopped down. It was hard to stand with the waves anyway. 

“Now let’s get you laying down. Careful as you move your feet, I’ll get the jeans out of your way as you go.” 

That part went a lot slower. Dex helped him though. Then made him roll on his side. Side sleeping was good for spooning, so that was fine. Except Dex was still moving around, not getting into bed, and then Nursey blinked and didn’t manage to open his eyes again until late the next morning when someone knocked on his door.


	8. Chapter 8

Dex had an eight am class on Mondays and Wednesdays. Normally, he didn’t mind this because it was still later than waking up for work or practice, but normally, Nursey didn’t text him for a ride at two am the night before. Which was absurd for a number of reasons starting with the fact that Dex didn’t have a car and ending with the fact that Nursey ended up being just across the river at a seedy Irish dive bar. But at least it meant Nursey hadn’t gotten into a car with a stranger and ended up who knows where. 

And Dex was not going to allow his tired and grumpy brain to think about how it could have been worse than ending up in a different city. Whatever, nothing bad had happened other than Dex getting woken up in the middle of the night and Nursey was completely capable of taking care of himself.

Just, Nursey taking care of himself apparently included drunk texting Dex for a ride. Dex didn’t want to think about what that meant. Or what it meant that Nursey’s ringtone had woken him up at two am. Or what it meant that Nursey had a special ringtone that was extremely exactly like his alarm. He already knew he had a crush, it wasn’t a useful train of thought.

He was just too tired to make himself pay attention to Data Structures instead of thinking about Nursey. If the professor wasn’t the sort to take attendance and refuse to give the problem sets out to people who missed, Dex would have slept through. So he gave in to not paying attention and decided to look up whatever it was that Nursey had called him the night before. Cara anam, anam cara, something like that. 

Google translate told him that it was Malay for “way” which didn’t make sense at all, so he changed it from “detect language” to Irish. “The soul of a friend.” He switched to just searching for the term and found it described as a soul friend. There was also a lot about celtic spirituality and monastic orders that didn’t make sense to him, but if Nursey thought of him as that close of a friend, he’d be a fool to ruin that.

* * *

His ten am class had a much looser attendance policy. The smart thing to do would be to go back to his dorm and nap to be rested for conditioning that afternoon. The smart thing to do would be to go to class because it was an important class and one he actually enjoyed. The smart thing to do would be to go to the dining hall and use a meal swipe to get brunch to go. The not quite as smart thing to do would be to walk over to Jerry’s and pay out of pocket for brunch to go. The not smart but completely reasonable thing to do would be to go to the Haus and make brunch using the oven and stove top that he’d been trying to keep working well past when it should have been scrapped. 

So in the end, he had no excuse for why he ended up in a cramped and misused community kitchen to make brunch, other than it was the shortest distance to walk. Which would hold up as long as no one asked him where he’d gotten the ingredients. But no one there cared when he finished cooking and then left the building with the prepared brunch. They didn’t care who he was or what he was doing unless it affected them. There was a comfort in that anonymity.

Which was probably how he had the courage to get all the way to Nursey’s dorm and knock on the door. 

It did not prepare him for Nursey opening the door in nothing but boxer briefs, his eyes bleary and his hair smooshed from sleeping. They shared a room on roadies, it wasn’t the first time Dex had seen Nursey when he’d just woken up. It’s just, usually he had time to prepare himself, or to be a coward and hide at the continental breakfast until Nursey was dressed. 

Luckily Nursey wasn’t paying any attention to Dex and didn’t notice the blush that must be creeping across Dex’s face and neck based on the way his skin was heating. Nursey was too busy staring at the food.

“Poindexter, if you say that’s for me, I will marry you.”

Dex’s ears and cheeks burned even hotter. “Jeez, Nurse. Put some pants on before you open the door.”

Nursey looked down at himself, his mouth forming a small “o” like he’d just realized that he’d answered the door in his underwear. Nursey turned and disappeared into the suite, leaving his door open, which Dex took to mean he was invited in. 

Dex sat on Nursey’s couch, but he didn’t have to wait long before Nursey returned wearing sweatpants, and still no shirt.

“Pants. Chill? Are you going to make me the happiest man on earth or what?” He was making grabby hands at the food, so Dex handed it over.

“My uncle’s hangover cure brunch. Thought you could use it.”

“I don’t really get bad hangovers. Just sleepy and hungry. This is perfect actually.” Nursey shoved food into his mouth and didn’t seem to think that should stop him from talking. “This is great. Makes sense though, that your family would have good hangover cure recipes.”

Dex clenched his jaw. “Ireland’s not real, Nurse.”

Nursey peered at him and slowed his chewing before finally setting the plate on the end table near him. “You said that yesterday, too.”

“Ayuh.”

“You said that Billy Butler Yeats, tractors, and milk chocolate were made up for a movie.”

Dex lifted a shoulder. “Some of them might not have been for a movie. Might be your average conspiracy. I don’t pay fictional things much mind.”

“Why do you keep saying this? You can’t just tell me something isn’t real when I know it’s real.” Nursey’s voice was getting strained.

Dex finally turned to look at him again and realized that he looked like he was actually distressed by the conversation. “Eat the food, Nurse. Fine. You’re right. Ireland’s real. I just wish it wasn’t.”

“Why on earth would you wish that? Ireland is mad chill.”

Dex closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nursey thought of him as a soul friend or whatever. Thought they had a deep connection and could share anything. If Nursey could share anything with him, then he could share with Nursey.

“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like racism or shit. Just. Everyone always assumes I’m Irish. At least people don’t pinch me until I bruise or try to force me into fights anymore. Though, I think that’s just because now they think I’ll win.” He paused to huff a bitter laugh. “Mostly it’s just the constant assumptions. Ginger, so must be Irish. Gingers occur worldwide. Name’s William, must be Irish. Well, William is from an Old Norman French name, and Poindexter is French too. I’m Acadian.”

He stopped with a sigh.

“It’s not the fault of Irish people. They were being shit on by the British, too. It’s just hard to hear because it’s a reminder that they don’t even teach the Great Expulsion in school in Maine. It’s stupid. It’s not like the French don’t have their own list of atrocities to be held accountable for.”

Nursey’s shoulder bumped into his and he stopped talking again. “It’s not stupid to not want your identity erased. Especially since you recognize that your actual heritage isn’t free from shitty people.”

“I’m sorry I said that Ireland isn’t real. I don’t know why it bothers you for me to say that, but I should have realized it was bothering you and stopped.”

“Thank you. It was messing with me because, like, Irish Studies major! I know it’s real, but we don’t lie to each other, really. So, ch’yeah.” Nursey trailed off and then moved away again, just a bit, but enough to notice. “I’m sorry, too. Asking if you were Irish clearly brought up some old trauma and trying to work out if I’d have an excuse to kiss you wasn’t worth putting you through that, even unintentionally.”

“Wait, what?”

“Hey, it’s chill, Poindexter. We’re anam cara, right? Soul friends. I’m not missing out or anything. If anything, it’s actually better to be soul friends than anything else.” Nursey’s voice was oozing chill.

Dex hated it when Nursey talked like that. It meant that Nursey only mostly believed what he was saying and was trying to convince them both. “Will you shut up for a second and go back to the wanting to kiss me bit? Are you serious? You weren’t just chirping me about my crush?”

“Your what?”

“The incredibly obvious crush that I’ve had on you since before Thanksgiving? The one that you know about because I, as you would say, lost all chill and dragged Bitty over to check on you when you were sick? And you’ve been chirping me about incessantly ever since, including texting me night and day while I was working over break?”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘flirting’. I’ve been flirting with you.”

Dex stared, his mouth gaping open. Nursey stared back. 

“Are we both dumbasses?”

“Chill, let’s focus on the important parts, Poindexter. We both like each other?”

“Ayuh. That’s true.”

“Great. And we both hate the English?”

“Damn right.”

“Perfect, can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Nursey’s lips were soft and warm and tasted faintly of maple syrup and bacon. Kissing while sitting side by side wasn’t ideal. As much as he wrapped an arm around Nursey’s back and clutched at his shirt with the other hand, as much as Nursey’s hands never stopped caressing his hair and cheek and neck, they couldn’t really touch each other as much as they both seemed to want to. 

He was considering the option of throwing a leg over Nursey’s and straddling him for a better angle (it was their first kiss, he should definitely not do that), when Nursey’s stomach growled and he slowly pulled away. 

“Chill. Definitely going to do that until conditioning, but I want to finish the swawesome food you brought first.”

Dex blinked and watched as Nursey leaned over to retrieve the plate. 

“Don’t you have classes on Wednesday?”

“Got more important things than class.”

How Nursey managed to leave him breathless with just an off the cuff remark, Dex wasn’t sure.

“Oh?”

“Ch’yeah. Got four months of us being dumbasses to make up for.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to talk to me about this or anything NurseyDex, I'm on tumbls at [SexyDexyNurse](https://sexydexynurse.tumblr.com/)


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